Such hateful things, awful things. Saying them made them real. Turned them into truths she couldn’t blow off or pretend not to care about.
She cared. There it was, plain as day.
“I don’t…I don’t know what to say to that,” Mikey offered hesitantly. “Thanks, I guess? Sorry? I don’t know. I didn’t know. I don’t remember any of that.”
Of course he didn’t. He’d been a toddler at the time. And by the time he was five or so, Dad had returned to the land of the living and all Mikey recalled now was a loving father and a big sister who had always been kind of bossy and crabby.
“You remind me of him,” he said, echoing Tess’ earlier thoughts. “You should talk to him about this stuff. Tell him. I think he’d know what to say, maybe?”
The poor boy radiated discomfort with the turn the conversation had taken, and Tess couldn’t help but feel for him. He’d had no idea what he was walking into when he’d stormed in to demand satisfaction for her crime of needing to get away from the world. He was a good kid, trying to do the right thing, and for his trouble he’d gotten both barrels of Tess’ pent-up angst right in the face. He’d have been safer to leave her in hiding.
“I never meant for anyone to worry. I’ll call him, okay? Right now I’ve got a lot of unpacking to do though.”
“Yeah.” Shaking off his stunned look, he scuffed his feet toward the door but paused with his hand on the knob. “I’m sorry, Tess. I really didn’t know.”
He was such a nice kid.
“Oh sweetie.” She crossed the room and threw her arms around him, squeezing until he gave in and returned the embrace. “It doesn’t matter. It was my privilege. Really. I’d do it all over again. You were totally worth it. Okay? Never forget that. That’s yours to keep, always. You were worth it.”
“Usually you tell me to remember I’m not all that.”
“I think we can risk it this once.” She let him go, but couldn’t resist sweeping his too-long hair back from his forehead. A proprietary gesture, maybe even a motherly one. He was beautiful, but he was also friendly, kind and smart. If she’d played any part in that, she had a lot to be proud of. “No, you’re right. Don’t let it go to your head, kid.”
“He shouldn’t have had to find out you were here because Mrs. Eberhardt saw you buying sheets in Smithville and told her husband, who told some guy who plays cards with the guy who cuts Dad’s hair. Or some dumb shit like that.”
“Potty mouth! And it was a shower curtain. I have sheets, they’re just in a box.”
“She also said that… No, never mind. It’s ridiculous.”
“What?” Suspicion loomed, only to be confirmed a second later.
“You were with Jake Hogan. Like, with him.”
“That’s because I was.” No need to bother lying. It was out there. By now, knowing how Cranston worked, the rumor mill had them engaged with a baby on the way. Or not engaged with a baby on the way. Denying it would only make things worse. “He’s also my neighbor, by the way. Not that any of it’s your business. And aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“I know he’s your neighbor. And you told him you were here but you didn’t tell us.”
“Jake showed up on my doorstep. I didn’t tell him anything, he found me here. I only made him promise to keep my secret. It was only a couple of weeks, Mikey. I wanted a couple of weeks by myself.”
“By yourself with Jake Hogan.”
“No. By myself. Jake was an unanticipated complication.”
“Right. And the part where you two were making out in a restaurant?”
“Never happened. Christ. Mrs. Eberhardt needs to get her mind out of the gutter. And what the hell, was she stalking us or something?”
Mikey shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I heard.”
“Nothing happened in that diner.” After she said it, it occurred to her that her inflection had revealed everything her words had not.
He pondered the unspoken implication for a moment then nodded. “I’m leaving. If I skip more than one period I’ll get caught. Call Dad.”
“I will. See you, baby brother.”
With a wave, he was gone, the screen door slapping shut behind him. Tess watched his battered black Mustang until it disappeared down the road.
She’d always known she’d have to have it out with her dad at some point. She even knew that avoiding it so long had made it harder. But there’d always been that hope in the back of her mind that one day she’d look at him, and he’d look at her, and they’d each know what the other was thinking and it would all be okay again.
Tess knew relationships didn’t work that way. People didn’t understand each other that way. Believing in that fairytale was a recipe for misery, and it was better by far to avoid letting anyone get close. That way you were safe, because there could be no betrayal, no huge misunderstanding down the line. No failure to communicate that ruined everything. There was nothing to ruin, nothing to misunderstand.
She plunked herself down on the folding chair she’d dragged out to the porch and promptly winced at the reminder of how she’d spent the previous day.
And what the hell had all that been about? Tess wanted to believe it was the final proof of her insanity, but couldn’t deny that the whole interlude—even considering the panic attack, Jesus H. Christ that was odd—had been the most lucid, happy experience she’d had in months. Maybe ever. For the first time she understood the euphemism “to know someone in the Biblical sense”. Jake had demonstrated that he knew Tess far, far better than she knew herself.
He’d stripped off a lot of protective coating in the process though. Knowledge was power, knowledge was dangerous, and even without the kinky extras she wasn’t sure she could withstand being known by Jake in that way. Being that exposed to anyone. And besides, weren’t you supposed to like yourself before you were ready for a healthy relationship? Tess didn’t like herself. She wasn’t even sure she had a self to like anymore.
It would have to be a one-time thing. It had been too much, too intense to be healthy. They were better off sticking to friendly meals and harmless chats about the good old days. She would tell him tonight. He was probably thinking the same thing, anyway, so she’d tell him before he had a chance to say it first.
The idea made her throat clench, tightening enough to choke her. She was worn out from crying, but now it seemed the dam had burst and she had no way to stop herself anymore. Maybe this was just the way she’d be now, crying over everything, crying over nothing.
She felt better afterward though. Like she had the day before. Cleansed. After a few minutes she sniffled her way into the house, washed her face and thawed a frozen burrito in the microwave. It scalded the roof of her mouth, but she was too hungry to care.
* * * * *
Less than twenty-four hours. That was how long it took a juicy rumor to spread from one end of Cranston to the other, and if anybody ought to have known that, it was a third-generation small-town newspaper man.
Still, Jake was caught off guard when his father greeted him at the newsroom door with a patrician “I am not amused” expression.
“Feeling better?” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. His dad had a good sense of humor, but was great at dripping sarcasm when he wanted to.
Jake glanced around at the receptionist, the layout guy and the one full-time reporter, who was also one of his mother’s oldest friends. They were all staring at him while pretending not to, eyes full of gleeful curiosity. He felt fifteen again.
Not comfortable.
He tried to play it cool, lifting an eyebrow, acting politely puzzled. “Much. Thanks.”
“I hear the air in Smithville is like a tonic this time of year.”
Ah. “Yep. It’s downright bracing.”
“You know what else is supposedly like a tonic?”
“I think you’re about to tell me, Dad. Right in front of everybody too.”
The old man couldn’t keep a grin from flashing across his fa
ce. “Oh yes. Yes indeedy.”
“Thanks.”
“Any time, son. The answer,” he projected across the room, “is young love. Young love is like a tonic, Jake. Even when it isn’t quite so young anymore. Had quite a bit of time to think that one over, haven’t you?”
Dad was enjoying this far too much. If Jake had spent a less exhilarating day off, he might have energy left to take umbrage at his father’s ruthless teasing. But then his father so rarely had the opportunity or ammunition to poke fun at his fine, upright son, Jake could hardly begrudge the man his moment. And he’d been caught anyway, fair and square. Which was his father’s point. No use trying to keep secrets in a town this size, they always came out anyway and it was best to take the lumps up front.
Jake did have secrets, but this couldn’t be one of them.
“Some things can’t be rushed, Dad. I waited until the timing was perfect before I made my move. She never saw it coming either. I swept her off her feet. And for the record, everyone,” he turned to catch them all in a stern glare, “she was totally worth the wait. Any questions?”
Silence. But when he turned back to his father, somebody wolf-whistled and somebody else said, “Wooooo!”
Next they’ll be singing “Jake and Tess, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”.
He thought about that tree. It could work. He’d need at least two hundred feet of rope and some solid attachment points. Maybe a buddy to help rig the suspension. Maybe Seth’s brother Drew, who’d demonstrated rigging a few times at the club Jake went to in the city. Tess was pretty strong and flexible, which meant he had a multitude of poses to choose from. He wondered if he could convince her an anal hook was a good idea and something she needed to try.
Happy thoughts like these carried him through the morning, through the worst of the teasing. His dad took off after an hour or so, having apparently exhausted his store of affectionately snarky comments.
At lunchtime, Jake tried Tess’ cell phone but it went to voicemail. Thirty minutes later, more voicemail. He made himself wait an hour to try again, his concern making him so edgy in the meantime he could barely concentrate on editing the piece about the township’s recent special council meeting on sewage.
She answered this time, but he’d barely greeted her before she interrupted him. “Can I call you back? I’m really sorry, but I’m at my dad’s and I can’t talk right now.”
She was at her dad’s? The cat must be well and truly out of the bag. “No apologies necessary, kitten. Call me when you get a chance.”
“I will. I will.” Then she whispered, “You wanna come over tonight? I have furniture now. We can talk.”
God, she was cute. And now he was hard. “I was always planning to come over tonight.”
“Um. Okay. Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
Around three-thirty, Mikey Moore ambled into the newspaper office, bypassing the receptionist and ignoring the startled glance from the layout guy. He made his lumbering, teenage way over to Jake’s glass-walled enclosure and stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.
He looked more grumpy than belligerent. Still, Jake pushed back from his desk, freeing up some space in case he needed to defend himself. “Mike.”
“Jake.” He pronounced the name as though it pained him.
Jake raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Nothing but the best intentions, man.”
“What?” His face screwed up in obvious confusion.
“Toward your sister?”
“Oh. Pfft. I know that, I’m not here about that. I mean, I wish I hadn’t had to hear about it, you know. But whatever, you’re old enough to— I’m not here because of that.”
He closed the door behind him, glaring through the glass at the curious faces for a second before slumping into the chair opposite Jake. His expression changed from tough teenage bruiser to miserable kid in the blink of an eye. “I was gonna ask my dad but Tess is over there. And Lindy and Allison are too weird about stuff like this. It’s like I never know when I’m accidentally going to say something that triggers all this memory stuff, and then they all start crying and looking at old pictures and shit.”
Baffled, Jake nodded and tried to pretend he had some clue what Mikey was talking about. Fortunately, the boy clarified for him.
“You knew Tess pretty well, even when you guys were little kids, right?” At Jake’s nod, he continued. “So is it true, what she said? About how after my mom died, my dad got weird for a while and Tess had to take care of me?”
“Oh. Oh. Is that what she’s talking to your dad about now? I called and she was over there, and sounded kind of—”
“Yeah. I guess so. I told her she should talk to him. Like, I said she sounded like he does sometimes or whatever. So if she was sad she should talk to him, because he’d know what to say. So? Is it true?”
“Yeah, she took care of you,” Jake said, his mind more on Tess than on Mike. “You and Lindy. For like two, three years. Your dad was hit hard, I guess.”
To his surprise and horror, Mike started to cry. Huge, obnoxious sobs that everyone outside the office could obviously hear. Jake’s door wasn’t soundproof, and they could see everything anyway. Bella, the receptionist, was giving Jake the stinkeye. She clearly thought he’d said or done something to make Mikey cry.
“Um. Damn. I didn’t mean to upset you, Mikey. I should’ve been more tactful. Here, have some tissue. That’s—no, no, keep the whole box over there.” The kid’s first attempt to staunch his tears and blow his nose went horribly awry. He would probably need a second box of tissues before long. And Jake would need to clean his desk when Mike left.
“I never knew she changed my diapers and potty-trained me and all that shit,” Mikey burbled out. “Nobody ever told me any of that. Like, she cared and that’s why she was the way she was. Because she practically raised me when I was a baby. I always thought she was just getting up in my business because she was a bitch. I’ve been such an asshole. Why didn’t somebody tell me?”
Fuck. He was going to have to hug the boy, that much was obvious. Even though he didn’t usually do guy-hugs. He’d spent a lot of time recently consoling various Moores, but at least with Tess he felt responsible for bringing on the tears in the first place.
Poor Mikey though. Poor Tess, poor Lindy, poor Stuart Moore, who was a nice guy but always seemed at least a bit sad even now, a whiff of wistful, resigned tragedy trailing in his wake.
Jake rounded his desk and stood awkwardly by Mike’s chair, patting his shoulder, trying to imagine what it would feel like to lose his own mother or his wife. He thought of Tess, then of losing Tess.
He corrected himself instantly, because logic told him it was too soon to think that way. But logic could go piss off a bridge, because Tess was part of his life and the idea of losing her made his throat close up. His fingers must have clenched too, because Mikey flinched under his grasp.
“Ow, man.”
“Sorry. Sorry. Can I get you something? Some water or something? I’m really sorry.”
“No, I should go. Coach said I had to be back in an hour.” Mikey stood, honking into another wad of tissue then tossing it overhand into the wastebasket. Then, to Jake’s continued astonishment, Mike threw his arms around him, bear-hugging him so hard he feared for his bones. “Thanks, Jake.”
Jake patted his shoulder, trying to breathe. “No problem, Mikey. It’s all gonna be okay, you’ll see.”
Backing off, the kid nodded and sniffed again. “Uh, I’ll still beat the shit out of you if you hurt her, you know.”
Jake accepted that with solemn dignity. “Understood.”
They shook hands. Mikey walked out. Jake stared through the glass at the newspaper staff, who stared back at him.
After far too many seconds of that, he grabbed his coat and shrugged it on, leaving his computer to go to sleep by itself for once.
“I’m done for the day,” he announced on his way out the door.
&
nbsp; Chapter Eleven
“You want a cup of coffee? I think I have some pop in the garage fridge. I oughta stock up before the weekend.”
This weekend, when everyone in the family started arriving for Allison’s wedding.
Tess shook her head. “No thanks, Dad.”
Stuart Moore was sitting in his recliner like he always did. Well, not exactly like he always did, because the television was off and the recliner was fully upright. He looked about as comfortable as she felt, perched on the edge of the couch with her hands sandwiched between her knees, her heels bouncing in an anxious rhythm.
“Something to eat?”
“Dad.”
He nodded, pressing his lips together. Stopped trying to offer her things she didn’t want or need.
For the first time, the impulse to shut him down gave Tess a pang of something. Not quite guilt, not sorrow, but a sense that she didn’t just have to yearn for things to be different. There was a chance, however vague and slippery and distant, that things might be different. If she could only work it out, or her father could, this puzzling mess their relationship had grown into over the last sixteen or seventeen years.
“You know what, sure. I’ll take a Coke if you have one,” she said. An olive branch. Admitting at least the possibility of peace. The possibility that she might finally be willing to accept the things he had to offer.
He brought her the drink in a glass, with ice and a straw, as if she were a guest in her own childhood home. It had felt that way for years, now that she thought about it. She was fine with her father when the whole family got together, fine with the occasional phone call or email, but she avoided one-on-one time with him. Dreaded it, really.
When Lindy had started seeing Richard, making the weekend jaunt to Cranston less and less often, Tess had blown up at her sister more than once before she’d finally figured out what she was really upset about. She didn’t want to make the trip by herself, couldn’t stand the time alone with her father, much as she wanted to be home.
And she did want to be home. She could admit that to herself, at least; that this claustrophobic little town was still the place she wanted to come back to. For whatever reason, she loved it here, from the way the trees grew together to shade the roads, to the neighborly gossip mill that had brought her here today.
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